It's Never Two Dimensional
by KatherineLynn
Summary: Kate's reaction when Castle didn't bring her coffee, and all the consequences.


A/N: Okay, I know I haven't updated my other fics lately, and I apologize, but this has been rattling around in my brain for a while...so I'm going to post it. Just a one shot.

Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me, just the plot.

Kate Beckett leaned back on her couch, her book falling to her lap as she stared at the wall of her new apartment. She had barely moved in less than a month ago, and had finally gotten rid of the last box just that afternoon. A box full of Josh's things. She frowned as she remembered how it felt to dump the box in the dumpster down the street, too angry to just toss it down the garbage chute in her hallway.

She had never been the person to break up with someone over the phone, it was as trashy as it could get, but after the day she had, it was the only thing she could do short of blowing up everything breakable in her apartment with her police issue gun.

Even as she thought back to her fiery argument with Josh about her job, his job, her lack of commitment, his lack of time management skills, and her unorthodox partnership with a writer she would rather not think about, she felt her hands clench into fists until her nails cut her skin and bruised her palms.

First, she had gone to work early, only to find that Castle hadn't brought her coffee like he usually did. It hurt a lot more than she had imagined it would, and the ache hadn't abated as the day continued. She found him looking down at his own knees more often than usual, and his theories weren't as far-fetched as she was accustomed; in fact, they were practically logical. He had gone home early, and she had stayed, her head in her hands, on her desk, for the better part of an hour, wishing she was dreaming, hoping she was going to wake up any second now. She would count down from ten, over and over again, but sometimes nightmares just didn't end.

And then Josh had called. She knew she shouldn't have answered the call, yet against her better judgment, she had pressed 'talk.' He was calling to tell her that their date tonight was going to have to be postponed, because he had a surgery. She had given him a short answer and they hung up.

He called right back, concerned like a boyfriend should be, and she had blown up on him. She was angry, she had hissed back at him, angry that her boyfriend was constantly blowing her off, and he had responded in kind. It turned out they had a lot of pent up aggression against each other.

He was furious that she risked her life every day, and came home late, woke up early, and never called him back, all because of her job. He didn't understand about her mother, but that was her fault; she had never told him about her. She always had one foot out the door, and he had good enough eyesight to see that. She was angry that he didn't give her the space she so desperately needed when she was working, but he couldn't understand the distance she wanted one day when she wanted to be close the next.

He was angry, she was angry. Their yelling had escalated into low blows, where she asked him if he ever really cared about her, and where he shouted back that he loved her, but she never gave a damn about him, because that much was obvious. He was dedicated to her, and she couldn't give him the same courtesy because she was infatuated with someone she didn't even take seriously.

The deal breaker was Castle. It was a button Josh had learned not to push early on in their relationship, but when they were arguing, all bets were off. He had asked her if she had realized yet that she was in love with him, if the reason of this argument was because Castle had done something to make her angry.

It angered her more that he was right.

He asked her why she was still allowing him to follow her around like a lost puppy. If she reveled in the attention he so willingly gave her. She had snapped back that she was ordered to let him follow her, that she was doing the mayor a favor. He scoffed at her flimsy excuse, knowing three years was a bit too long for a favor.

She had sarcastically asked why he was with her if he was so goddamn sure that she was in love with someone else. He had paused, and agreed. She had been surprised, or even shocked, but with the ball rolling, she couldn't turn back.

"It's over," she whispered, running her fingers along the edges of her book. She had hung up on him then, slamming her phone down, surprised it didn't snap under her rage. She had snatched a box that still had a few sweaters in it and upended it on her bed, and started throwing his stuff in it. His toothbrush, his aftershave, his shirts. When she was done, tears were falling and she was breathing heavily. She had stomped out of her apartment and all the way down the stairs and down the street, knowing she must look crazy by the looks she was getting. She threw it all in the dumpster with no small amount of satisfaction and kicked the dumpster for good measure.

It wasn't until she was back on her couch that she realized she wanted to call Castle. But she wasn't that girl, the one who relied on a man. She wasn't the girl who called one when she broke up with her boyfriend. She wasn't the one who needed a man, especially that one. The one who didn't bring her coffee that morning.

The petty thought brought tears to her eyes again, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand in frustration. She threw her book against the door, and was startled when a knock answered her.

She stood up and paused, knowing by the nervous ball in her stomach who stood on the other side of that door. She glanced in the peep hole anyway, and debated not answering the door at all. But before she decided one way or the other, her body betrayed her and turned the knob.

Castle held out a coffee cup the second he saw her. "I didn't bring you coffee this morning."

The fact that his brain seemed to flow from hers almost made her cry again. She took the cup and sipped it tentatively. "I know," she whispered.

"Can I come in?" he asked. She didn't look up into his face, but stepped aside all the same. He crossed the threshold and she nudged the door closed with her foot. The coffee soothed her, and she felt much more at ease with the warm cup between her hands.

"Thank you," she said, holding up the cup.

"I'm sorry," Castle replied instantly. She furrowed her eyebrows, though she knew what he was apologizing for. "I should have brought you coffee this morning, but I was just..."

Under normal circumstances, she would have caught his drift and saved him the decency of having to continue. Under normal circumstances, she would have made a sarcastic comment, raised her eyebrow, and changed the subject. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be aching to hear what he had to say next. But this wasn't a normal night for her, and she needed to hear what he felt.

"Yes?"

He paused, looking surprised that she wanted him to continue. He took a seat on her couch, and she followed, perhaps sensing that this conversation was going into murkier waters of something they had never touched on.

"I was being childish."

"Tell me something I don't know."

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth and he continued. "I saw you with Josh the other day, and I said in my head 'her boyfriend can get her coffee then,' and then I ordered two cups anyway, because I was so used to it. I gave it to the receptionist downstairs, because I was going to stick to my guns this time. I told myself I wasn't going to let you get to me."

"So you came up with one cup of coffee," Beckett prodded.

"And I saw your expression. I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. Seeing the hurt on your face—"

Beckett interjected. "I was not hurt!"

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she looked away.

"It was horrible, all day, thinking about why I did it and knowing it was for a good reason, but knowing it hurt too much to ever do it again, and I just couldn't get your expression out of my head, I just—"

"You thought not bringing me coffee because I had a boyfriend was a good idea?"

Castle fixed her with such a matter-of-fact stare that she blinked. "Please, Beckett. I don't just bring you coffee because I feel like it. It's never that two-dimensional. You know that."

She chose not to reply. He waited in silence, and when she didn't say a word, he stood up.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, "You probably have a date with Josh, and I didn't even call before I showed up, I should just go."

"I don't have a date with Josh," Beckett replied quietly.

Castle was still standing. "I'm just...going to...go. I'll uh...see you at the precinct tomorrow."

Beckett watched him leave, shutting the door quietly behind him, and the room seemed larger now, more empty. Her body betrayed her again and before she knew what she was doing, she was out the door, sprinting down the hall to Castle, who was turning around in surprise.

She skidded to a stop in front of him and held out her hand.

He stared at it like he was afraid it would bite him.

She felt her heart beating triple its speed in her chest, and felt a smile tugging at her lips. "I don't have a date with Josh because we broke up. I was hurt when you didn't bring me coffee, and you bringing it to me now was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I know why you bring me coffee, and I know why I accept it every day and why it hurt so much when you didn't. I thought about you all day, and it was perfect that you showed up when you did and now I'm rambling, but I don't know what else I wanted to say when you were in my apartment so I'm just going to kiss you now, if that's okay."

Castle beamed at her as she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his. She pulled away first, tugging his hand and pulling him back toward her apartment. He stumbled after her and she almost giggled, and slammed her door shut by shoving Castle against it. He cupped her face and kissed her softly, but she was having none of it. She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing a chuck of it and pulling, exposing his neck. She nipped and kissed his throat until her teeth were leaving pink markings all on his skin. His hands were exploring her silhouette as she worked, and one hand had settled into the back pocket of her jeans while the other expertly unhooked her bra from above her shirt.

She laughed into his mouth and pulled away to look at what she had done. His eyes were bleary and his hair a mess, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his neck raw. She gently placed both hands around his neck and enveloped his hot mouth with hers, aching to taste him.

A loud ring interrupted them and Castle, instinctively reached for the phone on the table, answering it. "Hello?" he paused, his eyes suddenly alert, and pulled the phone away from his ear.

It was Beckett's phone.

"I knew it," was all she heard before she hung up the phone.

Castle looked mortified. So mortified, in fact, that Beckett couldn't help but laugh.

"What is so funny?" he asked. "That was Josh on the phone. And I answered it."

Beckett kissed his cheek. "That's what's so funny." Castle frowned, clearly not understanding, and she kissed him again.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to her couch. He looked confused again, so she pushed him in the general direction.

"Why?"

"Because you're going to watch a movie," she said simply.

He was still confused. "And what are you going to do?" he asked. She didn't reply, but straddled his lap and pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it in the direction of her room.

"Ohhhhh."


End file.
